


will you cater to every fantasy i got?

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Series: Four-Color Love (A Comic Book Romance) [20]
Category: The Big Bang Theory (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 05:27:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP. The little black dress fic I said someone should write (someone, in these cases, inevitably ends up being me; it's axiomatic).</p>
            </blockquote>





	will you cater to every fantasy i got?

**Author's Note:**

> TBBT, Chuck Lorre, not mine, no money, blah blah blah.
> 
> * * *

Stuart is terrified. He’s wondering if he made a flat-out stupid decision. The extra Xanax he took is making a dent in the fear, but even so he doesn’t especially want to leave the bathroom.

He did tell Raj he was only coming in here to freshen up, though, and dinner’s waiting.

He takes a deep breath, adjusts his green Alice band -- it’s the only part of his ensemble that isn’t black -- and goes through the bedroom into the living room, leaving both doors open in case he has to bolt.

Raj is working at the stove; the red smell of bolognese sauce fills the apartment. “I’m sorry it’s just pasta,” he says without turning around. “There’s homemade cheese and herb focaccia, though, and--”

Stuart doesn’t find out what comes after “and”, though, because that’s when Raj does turn around and see him.

The closing punctuation to that sentence is a _splat_ as the wooden spoon hits the floor.

“Oh my God.”

Stuart cocks one hip, puts his hand on it, and tries to make his smile look as natural as possible. The way that Raj is staring at him helps, as does years of cosplay experience, falling into different roles.

“Oh my God,” Raj says again. He fumbles behind himself, nearly breaking the dials as he turns the stove off. Stuart is impressed that he’s that mindful, considering the ravenous look on his face. “Stuart... you...”

Stuart flutters his eyelashes, and Raj is across the kitchen in three long steps, crushing his lips against Stuart’s. Stuart returns the kiss with equal fervor, licking into Raj’s mouth, and when Raj’s lips part it’s to moan directly into Stuart’s mouth.

“I thought _I_ was meant to be the cross-dresser out of this couple,” Raj says eventually. There’s a pale pink smudge at the corner of his mouth; so much for kiss-proof lipstick.

Stuart raises an eyebrow. “You can’t hog all the fun, honey.”

Raj holds him at arm’s length for a minute, just studying him. If it were anyone else Stuart would be embarrassed; the hungry look in Raj’s dark eyes pins him in place.

“Your makeup is amazing.”

“Thank you,” Stuart says, giving him a demure smile.

“The dress is _perfect_ on you.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you shave your legs?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” Stuart delicately points one toe; Raj looks down at the movement and lets out another “Oh my God” when he sees the fine black stockings and the soft ballet flats. (Stuart would do anything for love, but he won’t do heels.)

Raj’s hands slip from his shoulders to his waist, gathering him close. “You’re amazing,” he murmurs, “and _so_ sexy.”

For a shaky second Stuart just feels ridiculous, but then Raj’s words really hit home and suddenly he just feels like he’s full-body blushing.

“I don’t think it would be gentlemanly to drag you straight off to the bedroom without at least giving you dinner first.” Raj looks like his very soul is in torment.

“Well, all right,” Stuart says, feigning indifference, “but that means it’ll take you longer to find out what I’m wearing under this.” He pauses for a nanosecond. “Or _not_ wearing.”

The next thing he knows, he’s over Raj’s freaking _shoulder_ , one of Raj’s hands is as far up on his thigh as is physically possible, and Raj is kicking the bedroom door closed behind them.

Raj has done this before, but somehow Stuart doesn’t think that he’s going to get the usual apology for cavemanesque behaviour. The way that Raj practically drops him on the bed and then crawls on top of him, resuming the kissing as if they hadn’t even paused, only reinforces the notion.

“I can’t believe you did all this for me,” Raj says against his mouth. “I love it; I love you...”

Stuart twines his arms around Raj’s neck. “I just happened to remember something that you said before we started dating... you were talking about how things would be between us if I were a girl...”

Raj clearly remembers, judging by the sly smile that spreads across his face.

“As I recall, you were very specific on the subject of what you’d do to me when you got me home,” Stuart says, and Raj dives in for a long, nigh-savage kiss that says _message received_. His hips are already working against Stuart’s.

“One change,” he gasps between kisses.

“Mmmm?”

“The dress stays on.”

Stuart is completely and totally unsurprised.

Raj keeps kissing him, working one hand up along his thigh under his dress; Stuart helps him out by bending that knee so that the dress slides out of the way. Raj pauses to say, “Your skin is so _smooth_ ,” and, a moment later, “Oh, my... oh, God, Stuart, a garter belt?” He sounds like a kid who asked for a My Little Pony for Christmas and instead got a thoroughbred dressage champion.

“I assume you want that to stay on too.”

“Not if I can’t get your underwear off.”

Stuart just gives him a slow smile -- it’s coming easier the more he practices, like he’s slipping further into this character, this femme-him, whoever she is -- and waits the two point six seconds that it takes for Raj to run his fingers up high enough to realize that the underwear thing is not going to be an issue.

“You really do want this, don’t you?” Raj, for some reason, actually sounds surprised.

Stuart tightens his arms around Raj, crosses his ankles behind Raj’s knees, and rolls his hips up in a very slow, very deliberate movement. Even so, Raj is hesitant about taking advantage of the situation -- right up until the point where Stuart, tired of tiptoeing around the subject and of being driven wild by the not-quite-enough friction of Raj rubbing against him, presses his lips against the sensitive skin just below Raj’s ear and whispers, “Fuck me, Rajesh,” leaving no room for ambiguity.

He doesn’t even blush; apparently femme-him isn’t as shy as regular him.

Given such a specific request, Raj very quickly has Stuart’s dress up around his waist, swallowing him deep, fingering him open with short quick movements that Stuart thinks would be too rough if he weren’t already wound up so much. Raj’s other hand is roaming everywhere but mostly lingering on the lace of the garter belt or on the smooth skin of Stuart’s thigh. Stuart’s glad that he got up the nerve to go and get his legs waxed; it hurt like hell but it feels good, both from the perspective of having smooth legs and having Raj so very appreciative of the effort.

“I don’t want to stop this,” Raj says, lifting his head for a moment. “I love the way you feel.”

It’s very hard to formulate a response with Raj’s fingers in him and Raj’s breath on him, but Stuart manages. “Then don’t stop. Finish me first. Then, you know, you can just... without worrying about me.”

“You do know I’ll still want you to enjoy it?”

“Yeah, and I will.” Stuart arches so that the head of his cock brushes against Raj’s lips. “But far be it from me to deny you the pleasure of sucking me dry.”

Raj lets out an agonized moan. “God, Stuart, I don’t know where this dirty talk came from, but I love it.”

Stuart would reply, but Raj has dived back down on him and, with his hair down there reduced to a neatly trimmed triangle, he feels like Raj has managed to take him deeper than usual; he can feel Raj’s nose pressed against his skin. He makes a point of being as vocal as he can, particularly when Raj pushes a third finger into him. It’s probably just the amount of lube that Raj is using on him but for a minute or two he feels like he _is_ a girl, and dripping, and impatient.

But then Raj swallows him deep again and Stuart is very much reminded of the exact configuration of his genitals, particularly in relation to the location of Raj’s tongue.

Raj’s mouth pulls on him relentlessly, and Raj’s fingers plunge and twist inside him, mercilessly playing over that one spot that has the power to reduce him to a whimpering mess. He feels so far gone already. Raj knows all the best moves to get him off and, although he’s been practicing holding out for longer, his orgasm still jumps him in short order. Raj, true to his word, holds him deep until the very last jerk of his hips, pulling off him slowly, tongue licking him thoroughly clean.

Stuart expects a minute of respite while Raj strips off, but he only gets a few seconds. Raj unzips his jeans and guides his cock out of the opening. Stuart’s about to comment on Raj’s lack of underwear, but then he sees the intent look on Raj’s face and words escape him. Raj’s hands are shaking a little as he works more lube into Stuart and over his cock, which... well. Stuart now thinks he knows why some romance novels throw around the word “rampant”; Raj looks like he’s hard enough to split his skin.

“Not, uh, not getting naked?”

Raj shakes his head. “Not when I know how hot and tight and wet you are.” His cock presses in on the word _wet_ and Stuart has to grab a handful of quilt, trying to ground himself. He feels like his mind is flying away. Raj works into him an inch at a time; Stuart does his best to let him in and by the time that Raj bottoms out inside him his legs are spread wide and his ass is tilted up at an angle that, quite frankly, he doesn’t think a forty-year-old should be expected to maintain.

Then Raj’s hand is under his right knee, lifting, and Stuart is on the verge of protesting indignantly when he realizes that no, actually, this is working. Judging from the low moan that escapes his lover, it’s working for him as well. Adding in the way that Raj’s eyes are blown dark with desire, and Stuart thinks that he wouldn’t change position even if he wanted to. He feels like he must look a mess; his shoes and hairband have gone AWOL, but then Raj proves him wrong.

“Do you have any idea how good you look right now? And how you feel, God, Stuart...” Raj’s whole body shudders and for a second Stuart thinks it’s all going to be over, and he doesn’t want that, not yet. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

There must be a reckless demon on Stuart’s shoulder, because he lets go of the quilt to wind his fingers through Raj’s hair, pulls Raj’s ear down to his mouth, and whispers, “Maybe I didn’t. Maybe I did it all for me. Maybe I just want you to fuck me into oblivion and knew this would get your attention.”

Raj lets out a choked string of words that are definitely not English, pins Stuart’s wrists to the pillows, and slams into him harder than he’s ever dared try before. Stuart tries his best to meet every one of Raj’s movements, but abandons the attempt after mere moments and settles for crossing his ankles at the base of Raj’s spine, urging him on with one heel pressed against Raj’s denim-clad ass.

“Like this?” Raj asks, biting the side of his throat, marking him; it’ll be bruised in the morning.

“Yeah. God.”

“And...” Raj’s hand clamps down on his wrists; Stuart tries to pull away, seeing the look in Raj’s eyes daring him to do so, and Raj’s grip tightens. Somehow this only turns Stuart on _more_ ; he kind of feels like he’s going to come again, or maybe like his mind is just going to fly away into space and go supernova. He feels stretched and used but also wanted and needed, and the lovely little gasps and sighs that Raj is pouring forth flood away any misgivings.

“Oh, God. Stuart, fuck, Stuart...”

“You are,” Stuart points out, and Raj’s head dips to bite his shoulder.

“ _Mine_.”

Stuart deliberately squeezes tight around him; Raj lets out a broken moan.

The funny thing is that he goes completely silent when he finally does come; his fingers are locked around Stuart’s wrists, his other arm hooked under Stuart’s knee, and he just throws his head back and comes apart, shuddering into Stuart with an intensity that Stuart doesn’t think he personally could survive.

But then again, not so long ago he would have sworn that he couldn’t achieve the pretzelesque position he’s currently in, so who knows?

Raj lets go of his wrists and leans on his elbow so that he doesn’t totally collapse. Stuart stretches his legs out flat on the bed. His mind still feels curiously floaty. Physically, he feels a little sore, but also utterly amazing; it’s a cross between endorphins and the maddening itch where Raj’s jeans have chafed his thighs. Raj slips out of him and rolls to lie next to him, spooning around him straight away.

“Thank you,” he whispers against Stuart’s ear.

“Oh, believe me, it was my pleasure.”

“I like you when you’re like this. I liked the dirty talk.”

“Does this mean you don’t like me the rest of the time?”

“No self-deprecation.” Raj administers a warning pinch to his ass.

“It’s okay, I know you like me all the time.” Stuart pulls Raj’s left hand up to his mouth and plants a kiss square on the ring there. More and more men are wearing engagement rings these days. Theirs have their birthstones (Raj’s green tourmaline and Stuart’s deep red ruby) surrounded by an infinity symbol; they chose titanium over gold.

“I like you a _lot_ in this outfit.”

Stuart kisses Raj’s hand again. “I appreciate the sentiment.”

“That kind of sounds like you’re not such a big fan of the outfit...”

“Oh, no, I’m fine with it, with you.” Stuart rolls over in the circle of his arms to press the next kiss to Raj’s mouth. “But next time one of us is in a dress, it’s _your_ turn.”


End file.
